“I can take you to Sam Sharpe Square tomorrow if Miss Josie says it is OK," Janvon said.
Chapter 3
Cornelia the Chameleon
Cornelia hissed her teeth in frustration, there was absolutely nothing in her wardrobe that she could wear downtown to impress Jimmy. It was Sunday afternoon and Aunt Josie was bathing Isaiah before she left for Sunday evening praise and worship at church. They had attended church that morning as a family where Cornelia had been introduced to the congregation. Cornelia was surprised that after the service, several teenagers came across to talk to and hug her aunt. She, who was supposed to be a living dragon, seemed to be a favourite among the young people here. They were the usual friendly church youth and Cornelia would have been happy to join them that evening but Aunt had said that she would have to stay in and baby sit.
Aunt Josie returned to the bedroom with Isaiah who was chatting happily in the towel. She placed him on the bed and began to gently powder, lotion, and then dress him. Cornelia thought that for a woman with such a ferocious reputation for standing no nonsense, she was hopelessly mushy when it came to her son.
“How often do they have youth meetings at church, Aunt Josie?”
“Several times a week, especially now that the holidays are here. I even think that they are planning some outings around the island.”
“Really? That sounds really nice, and those young people at your church seem like Fun.” Cornelia gave her voice as wistful a tone as she could muster. Her Aunt said nothing.
Soon after, her aunt pinned her evening hat in place, gave Isaiah a last cuddle and left for church. Cornelia, Isaiah in her arms, walked with her to the gate.
“Bye Aunt Josie, have a good time.”
Cornelia knew that her Aunt was thinking that she had denied Cornelia some
enjoyment by having her stay a home babysitting instead of enjoying the company of
young people her own age. Aunt would be thinking that her young wayward niece was now on her way to nurturing a repentant and contrite heart.
Cornelia idled at the gate a bit watching the old man whom she supposed was Janvon’s grandfather water the potted plants on his verandah. Footsteps in the opposite direction caused her to look towards the sound and see Janvon himself hurrying up the road. He was dressed in the same style as before, polo shirt, trousers and handmade leather sandals. His hair had been drawn back into a ponytail. He was also wearing a wide smile, and it wasn’t for his grandfather.
“Wha’appen?”
Now that he was beside her, his confidence seemed to have faltered and nothing after that nondescript greeting came out of his mouth.
“Hello” she said, “what’s your name again?”
“Janvon”.
“Right, I guess you came to visit your grandfather, see him there.”
“I see him.”
They stood for a few seconds in silence and Cornelia got bored and made a move to go inside the house. The youth spoke.
“I wanted to see you.”
“What?”
“I can take you to Sam Sharpe Square tomorrow if Miss Josie says it is OK."
“Why would I want to go there?”
“To see the statues and have an ice cream or something. I can carry Isaiah some of the time.”
“He has a nurse during the week”
“So you will come?”
“I don’t know; I’ll have to ask Aunt Josie.”
“So, can I check you tomorrow?”
Cornelia thought quickly. She did not know the way to Barnett Street and if Aunt Josie agreed, going out with Janvon was a good way to get to know her way around. She nodded. “Check me early. She might not say yes for tomorrow, but you never know.”
The youth nodded his head vigourously as she turned to go inside of the house.
“ I’ll show you the Old Fort and we can see the cruise ships when they come in from my father’s workshop.. Miss Josie will say yes, I know. Can I call you Lia?”
She spun around.
“No! My name is Cornelia.”
Life is full of possibilities, Cornelia told herself as she and Janvon walked around the heart of the city. Her Aunt had said that Janvon could take her into town on Tuesday and that at twelve thirty they should come by her workplace so that she could buy them lunch and then Cornelia was to go straight home after that. At first Cornelia felt a bit awkward walking on the streets with a Rasta youth, but surprisingly, no one seemed to be staring at them. This morning he wore a pair of jeans and his shirt was tucked into his trousers. She also wore jeans, but hers was a skirt that was regulation length by her knees, and a frilled cotton blouse. Her hair was brushed back and shaped into a bun and a single braid tantalisingly hung at the side of her face. Cornelia’s luggage had been packed under supervision of her mother and so she was not able to slide in the stick of lipstick that she owned. She had taken a good look around her aunt’s dresser and bathroom but did not find a grain of face powder much less lipstick, so she made do with talc and a little petroleum jelly on her lips.
Perla, Isaiah’s nursemaid, arrived just before Janvon did and they walked twenty minutes down the hill downtown, arriving sweating at about 9 o’clock and then went across to Old Fort.
Janvon explained that the fort was where soldiers used to observe ships that were passing by or that were seeking entry into the bay. The battlements and remnants of the ordinance created an atmosphere for what was now a park and a craft market. Then they walked down to the library. It was in its own sunken park that was shaded by several almond trees. Dominating the roundabout in the driveway was a metal plated bust of National Hero Marcus Mosiah Garvey dressed in military regalia.
After that, she was led to a circle paved in white limestone that was between a burnt out building and a waterless fountain with juice boxes and bits of plastic lying in it; and Janvon proudly declared that they were standing in Sam Sharpe Square. Cornelia knew from her school lessons that this was dedicated to the National Hero of that name who led a slave strike that later turned into riots. Janvon directed her to walk among the life sized statues in the square that represented the enslaved Africans who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their liberation after Christmas in 1832. She followed Janvon in quiet reflection, looking at the streets radiating from the square and wondering which one was named after the slave owner, Barnett.
“Where is Barnett Street Janvon,” she asked after half-an-hour of moving around.
“Oh, you are interested in seeing the historic clock tower?” Janvon asked.
“Yes!”Cornelia figured that was as good an excuse as any.
They walked away from the square and back into the center of town, then Janvon led her to a main street running north to sounds through the town. Cornelia noticed that most of the properties did not have street numbers, so she made careful note of buildings to help her mark the spot. They walked along a stone block wall painted blue and white. It looked imposing, and as they passed a recessed doorway, Cornelia realized that behind it was the Barnett Street police station. The rest of the street were businesses. Then Janvon stopped.
“Here it is.”
“Here what is?”
“The clock tower, the only one in Mo Bay. You said that you wanted to see it.” Cornelia looked up to see a rectangular tower built of grey stone.
“Right”, she said, and quickly followed him inside the little yard and after two minutes
said that she wanted to continue up the street.
Janvon looked at his watch.
“Miss Josie said that we must meet her at 12:30. We should really start looking for a
bus now.”
But Cornelia was already walking up the road.
“I just want a view from the top of the road, it won’t take long.”
“View? There is no view from this road, it’s too flat!”
Cornelia did not stop walking, and he followed her to a building that read Barnett Customs Brokers. It seemed to be the most modern building on the street. There was no black and silver car in the chained off parking lot, but Cornelia felt as if her morning’s efforts had been rewarded. There still seemed to be a long way to go before reaching the top of the Street so she passed two more buildings before telling Janvon that he was right and that they should head back into town and find a bus. He readily agreed and as they passed the customs brokerage again, Cornelia looked up at the tinted windowpanes and decided that before the end of the week, she would be visiting there.
Cornelia the Chameleon
Cornelia hissed her teeth in frustration, there was absolutely nothing in her wardrobe that she could wear downtown to impress Jimmy. It was Sunday afternoon and Aunt Josie was bathing Isaiah before she left for Sunday evening praise and worship at church. They had attended church that morning as a family where Cornelia had been introduced to the congregation. Cornelia was surprised that after the service, several teenagers came across to talk to and hug her aunt. She, who was supposed to be a living dragon, seemed to be a favourite among the young people here. They were the usual friendly church youth and Cornelia would have been happy to join them that evening but Aunt had said that she would have to stay in and baby sit.
Aunt Josie returned to the bedroom with Isaiah who was chatting happily in the towel. She placed him on the bed and began to gently powder, lotion, and then dress him. Cornelia thought that for a woman with such a ferocious reputation for standing no nonsense, she was hopelessly mushy when it came to her son.
“How often do they have youth meetings at church, Aunt Josie?”
“Several times a week, especially now that the holidays are here. I even think that they are planning some outings around the island.”
“Really? That sounds really nice, and those young people at your church seem like Fun.” Cornelia gave her voice as wistful a tone as she could muster. Her Aunt said nothing.
Soon after, her aunt pinned her evening hat in place, gave Isaiah a last cuddle and left for church. Cornelia, Isaiah in her arms, walked with her to the gate.
“Bye Aunt Josie, have a good time.”
Cornelia knew that her Aunt was thinking that she had denied Cornelia some
enjoyment by having her stay a home babysitting instead of enjoying the company of
young people her own age. Aunt would be thinking that her young wayward niece was now on her way to nurturing a repentant and contrite heart.
Cornelia idled at the gate a bit watching the old man whom she supposed was Janvon’s grandfather water the potted plants on his verandah. Footsteps in the opposite direction caused her to look towards the sound and see Janvon himself hurrying up the road. He was dressed in the same style as before, polo shirt, trousers and handmade leather sandals. His hair had been drawn back into a ponytail. He was also wearing a wide smile, and it wasn’t for his grandfather.
“Wha’appen?”
Now that he was beside her, his confidence seemed to have faltered and nothing after that nondescript greeting came out of his mouth.
“Hello” she said, “what’s your name again?”
“Janvon”.
“Right, I guess you came to visit your grandfather, see him there.”
“I see him.”
They stood for a few seconds in silence and Cornelia got bored and made a move to go inside the house. The youth spoke.
“I wanted to see you.”
“What?”
“I can take you to Sam Sharpe Square tomorrow if Miss Josie says it is OK."
“Why would I want to go there?”
“To see the statues and have an ice cream or something. I can carry Isaiah some of the time.”
“He has a nurse during the week”
“So you will come?”
“I don’t know; I’ll have to ask Aunt Josie.”
“So, can I check you tomorrow?”
Cornelia thought quickly. She did not know the way to Barnett Street and if Aunt Josie agreed, going out with Janvon was a good way to get to know her way around. She nodded. “Check me early. She might not say yes for tomorrow, but you never know.”
The youth nodded his head vigourously as she turned to go inside of the house.
“ I’ll show you the Old Fort and we can see the cruise ships when they come in from my father’s workshop.. Miss Josie will say yes, I know. Can I call you Lia?”
She spun around.
“No! My name is Cornelia.”
Life is full of possibilities, Cornelia told herself as she and Janvon walked around the heart of the city. Her Aunt had said that Janvon could take her into town on Tuesday and that at twelve thirty they should come by her workplace so that she could buy them lunch and then Cornelia was to go straight home after that. At first Cornelia felt a bit awkward walking on the streets with a Rasta youth, but surprisingly, no one seemed to be staring at them. This morning he wore a pair of jeans and his shirt was tucked into his trousers. She also wore jeans, but hers was a skirt that was regulation length by her knees, and a frilled cotton blouse. Her hair was brushed back and shaped into a bun and a single braid tantalisingly hung at the side of her face. Cornelia’s luggage had been packed under supervision of her mother and so she was not able to slide in the stick of lipstick that she owned. She had taken a good look around her aunt’s dresser and bathroom but did not find a grain of face powder much less lipstick, so she made do with talc and a little petroleum jelly on her lips.
Perla, Isaiah’s nursemaid, arrived just before Janvon did and they walked twenty minutes down the hill downtown, arriving sweating at about 9 o’clock and then went across to Old Fort.
Janvon explained that the fort was where soldiers used to observe ships that were passing by or that were seeking entry into the bay. The battlements and remnants of the ordinance created an atmosphere for what was now a park and a craft market. Then they walked down to the library. It was in its own sunken park that was shaded by several almond trees. Dominating the roundabout in the driveway was a metal plated bust of National Hero Marcus Mosiah Garvey dressed in military regalia.
After that, she was led to a circle paved in white limestone that was between a burnt out building and a waterless fountain with juice boxes and bits of plastic lying in it; and Janvon proudly declared that they were standing in Sam Sharpe Square. Cornelia knew from her school lessons that this was dedicated to the National Hero of that name who led a slave strike that later turned into riots. Janvon directed her to walk among the life sized statues in the square that represented the enslaved Africans who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their liberation after Christmas in 1832. She followed Janvon in quiet reflection, looking at the streets radiating from the square and wondering which one was named after the slave owner, Barnett.
“Where is Barnett Street Janvon,” she asked after half-an-hour of moving around.
“Oh, you are interested in seeing the historic clock tower?” Janvon asked.
“Yes!”Cornelia figured that was as good an excuse as any.
They walked away from the square and back into the center of town, then Janvon led her to a main street running north to sounds through the town. Cornelia noticed that most of the properties did not have street numbers, so she made careful note of buildings to help her mark the spot. They walked along a stone block wall painted blue and white. It looked imposing, and as they passed a recessed doorway, Cornelia realized that behind it was the Barnett Street police station. The rest of the street were businesses. Then Janvon stopped.
“Here it is.”
“Here what is?”
“The clock tower, the only one in Mo Bay. You said that you wanted to see it.” Cornelia looked up to see a rectangular tower built of grey stone.
“Right”, she said, and quickly followed him inside the little yard and after two minutes
said that she wanted to continue up the street.
Janvon looked at his watch.
“Miss Josie said that we must meet her at 12:30. We should really start looking for a
bus now.”
But Cornelia was already walking up the road.
“I just want a view from the top of the road, it won’t take long.”
“View? There is no view from this road, it’s too flat!”
Cornelia did not stop walking, and he followed her to a building that read Barnett Customs Brokers. It seemed to be the most modern building on the street. There was no black and silver car in the chained off parking lot, but Cornelia felt as if her morning’s efforts had been rewarded. There still seemed to be a long way to go before reaching the top of the Street so she passed two more buildings before telling Janvon that he was right and that they should head back into town and find a bus. He readily agreed and as they passed the customs brokerage again, Cornelia looked up at the tinted windowpanes and decided that before the end of the week, she would be visiting there.
